The corridor smelled faintly of antiseptic and rain. The storm outside had passed, but inside, the air hung heavy—charged with silence.
Reina sat curled on the hard hospital bench, her face pale, lashes heavy with dried tears. Her fingers trembled around a paper cup that had gone cold. Zaire sat beside her, still and quiet, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as if trying to hold it up for both of them.
"You don't have to hold the sky alone," he said, voice low, folded with warmth.
Reina didn't reply, but the tremble in her shoulders eased.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway. Elior arrived with three cups of coffee, his uniform damp from the drizzle outside. He handed one to Reina, then Zaire, before sitting quietly on her other side. His hands were steady. His eyes, not.
"Didn't know you drank it black," Zaire said.
"Didn't know I needed to," Elior replied.
They sat in imperfect silence—one breaking, one bracing, one becoming.
Later that evening, Zaire stood outside in the hospital courtyard. Rael curled at his feet, his smoke-like body barely visible.
"The jewel isn't just missing," Zaire murmured. "Someone took it, knowing what it sealed. I need you to go deeper—spiritually, dimensionally. Use whatever Ka you have to find what's stirring beneath this."
Rael's form flared with an indigo glow. He gave a low growl and vanished into the air like burnt incense.
Back inside, Reina turned from the window. "There's something… my father's journal. He kept it hidden. I saw it once when I was small—he told me never to touch it."
Zaire nodded. "Then we find it. You shouldn't go back alone."
"I'll stay here," Elior said, glancing toward Reina's brother's room. "Someone should."
Reina's home smelled of dust and old paper. The study had not been touched in weeks. A soft hum echoed from somewhere unseen, like the remnants of a memory resisting intrusion.
Reina knelt before the oak desk, her hands finding the hidden latch with familiarity. She pulled the false bottom away.
The journal was bound in cracked black leather. A sun-and-claw symbol was etched faintly into the cover. It smelled of ink, incense, and iron.
She opened it. The handwriting inside was tight and erratic:
"The Blood of Sekhmet must never awaken. Ka remembers. It remembers rage, war, hunger. The jewel wasn't just a seal. It was a cage. If the Red Star cult rises again, we are already too late."
Zaire exhaled slowly. "Your family has been keeping history buried."
"And now it's clawing its way back out," Reina whispered.
The next morning arrived too easily, as if nothing had changed. Sunlight filtered through the academy's tall windows, and laughter echoed like a lie.
Zaire lay beneath the old banyan tree, arms folded behind his head. Aristea sat nearby with a book resting in her lap. Reina sketched without realizing, fingers looping instinctively.
Elior leaned against the trunk, eyes scanning everything with a quiet edge.
Aristea noticed Reina's page and leaned in, frowning. "Where did you see that?"
Reina blinked. "It was carved into the journal."
"That's a symbol from the Cult of the Red Star," Aristea said, voice low. "My great-aunt mentioned them once. They were supposed to be wiped out decades ago. But not before they buried something. Or someone."
Zaire raised an eyebrow. "They believed in what—bloodline awakenings?"
"Yes," Aristea said. "They believed the descendants of Sekhmet could channel rage into divine Ka. But also… catastrophe."
Reina looked down at her drawing. "Maybe my father wasn't hiding a secret. Maybe he was hiding me."
Zaire tried to ease the tension. "Well, I'm just glad Elior hasn't tried to stab anyone this week."
Elior cracked a dry smile. "Don't test me."
They laughed—but briefly. The warmth dissolved, leaving a strange cold behind.
That night, Rael returned. He flickered into the room like smoke clinging to firelight, his form unstable. His voice, when it came, rasped.
"The jewel was one of five anchors. Spiritual seals. Ka-based locks meant to hold corrupted essence beneath the earth. This one held the First Hunger—a primordial rage from the war of gods."
Reina stepped forward, lips parted. "And now that it's broken?"
"Now the cage is cracked. And those with Sekhmet's bloodline are marked—not by prophecy, but by proximity."
"You mean hunted," Zaire said.
Rael didn't answer.
Midnight pressed down on the hospital. The halls glowed sterile and still.
Elior sat beside the bed where Reina's brother slept. Outside, wind tapped against the glass like fingers without form.
The window latch clicked.
A breeze crept in, bringing something colder.
A masked figure stepped through the open window, robes flowing in total silence. His mask was bone-white and cracked, as though once broken by divine hands. The blade he drew whispered through the air, trailing red mist that pulsed with ancient symbols.
He stepped toward the sleeping boy.
The dagger rose—
Elior's eyes opened.
Darkness followed.